Falling Forward
by fantasticbs
Summary: Spoiler based if you don't like that sort of thing. Anything can happen in New York.
1. Chapter 1

I feel warmth settle around my waist pleasantly. I haven't been hugged, _really hugged_ in so long and the pressure feels nice. I almost snuggle into the heat…..almost.

"Oh, hell no!" I press my palm into the man's cheek beside me, pushing him upright by his face. "Wake up Sandusky, you're totally groping me!"

The man shakes himself awake and apologizes, but smiles flirtatiously after, making me question how asleep he ever was. I only have 45 minutes left in this flight so I decide an assault and battery charge isn't the way I want to start my trip in New York. No matter how deserved.

Walking out of the baggage claim, I'm greeted by a newly chic, Rachel - all shiny hair and dark eye shadow. I'm very close to being impressed when she grabs me and hugs me as tightly as she can, jumping up and down - same old Rachel.

"I can't believe you're really here!"

"Me neither." I pull back to smile at her and it's as genuine as they come.

"Quinn's train arrives in an hour, so I thought we could grab some coffee and catch up."

"Actually, I could use some coffee." I think back to my leering seat mate, who pressed his number into my hand upon landing. "The flight was less restful than I had planned."

Standing in line, I'm again startled by what can only be described as Rachel, but sexy.

"So, who has Rachel Berry looking hot? Kurt's been trying to change your wardrobe for years, so I know it's not him."

Rachel blushes, looking down at her boots. "Umm, his name's Brody...he..he's a junior."

"An upperclassman? Nice work, Berry, I'm impressed. Should I be though? Or is he Finn with better clothes?"

"Finn...he and Finn are nothing alike. Brody is more like me, driven and focused. He's been in 3 off-broadway shows this season...minor parts, but still, doing that while we're in school is unheard of before senior year."

We finally get to the front of the line and place our orders before moving to the pick-up counter. I turn to her as we wait with a smile.

"Well, you're clearly as smitten as you ever were for Finn. I'm glad he makes you so happy."

Rachel fidgets with her coat strings nervously.

I'm used to making her nervous, but I haven't even threatened her yet. "What?"

"It's just...you never say nice things to me...it feels strange."

I laugh. She's right, I'm rarely this kind. "Well, don't expect it to last."

"I won't." She meets my eyes briefly before grabbing her cup. "Umm, I was sorry to hear about you and Britt. Are you alright?"

I sigh more loudly than I expected. "It wasn't easy, but it's for the best."

"I really and truly understand." Rachel starts walking us to a set of chairs by a window. "Breaking up with Finn was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, but it wasn't working. I had to do it. I know you had your reasons too." She waits a beat to continue. "Have you been seeing anyone new?"

"No." I consider explaining why, but I don't want to.

"Well, New York is full of attractive people, so maybe you can have a little fun while you're here." Rachel takes a long sip of her coffee before continuing shyly. "How was Thanksgiving with everyone? We had a great time here, but we missed you guys."

"Thanksgiving was cool. You know I live for my mom's cooking, so that alone made it worth the trip. It was nice to see everybody, even if you and Kurt ditched us."

"I talked to Quinn..." Rachel averts her eyes, letting the statement linger.

"And she told you what? That she was being a colossal bitch?! Because that's what happened."

"Look, I just want to make sure this weekend is fun for all of us and it won't be if you two are still angry with one another."

"I'm fine." I say it resolutely, but the layer of irritation can't be missed. "Our fights always blow over."

"It doesn't sound like you're fine."

"She consistently thinks I'm jealous of her and that everything I do somehow revolves around her existence. It won't be a problem because it's always the problem, we just ignore it most of the time."

Rachel takes in what I said, clearly surprised that I shared it with her. "As long as you feel like you can move past it, I guess we're alright."

"I'll do my best, but I'm not promising anything. Quinn doesn't always play fair."

Rachel nods in agreement, but has one last request. "I know she doesn't play fair, first hand, but please don't bring up Beth again. She'll never be over that and you'll never understand how much it hurts her for you to say those things. She did what was best for Beth, Santana, and it's not right for you to make her feel like she's a bad mother."

I can't keep the shame from my face when she mentions what I said to turn the fight physical. I know that insult stung, but I didn't realize it hurt her enough to tell Rachel. "I know. I know I went too far. She was just being so…..so Quinn! Cold and calm and so fucking self-righteous!"

"Again, we are in agreement that she can be….herself, but I know you have an encyclopedia of insults in that sadistic brain of yours. Find a different one if need be."

My frown weakens at the bizarre compliment and I break into a grin, nodding that I'll be good. We catch up on what everyone is doing. Rachel knows most of what's happening with the McKinley kids through Tina, and I have all the dish on the grads, so we quickly pass the time.

Sitting in the waiting area at the train station, I mull over what Rachel said about Quinn and decide that the _new _Santana can get over this. I only have to see the girl twice a year now. I can play nice.

Rachel slips away to use the restroom, just as Quinn's train arrives and I reluctantly stand to wave her over as she walks out. It's Quinn, so I can barely read it, but she has this look on her face…this sliver of apology in her eyes before she makes her way over. In the few seconds it takes to get to me they're back to being neutral.

I wave my hand toward the hall behind me. "Rachel went to the bathroom."

Neutrality lost. "It's nice to see you too."

"Don't get all I-hate-Santana in the first minute you see me. I was just telling you where the dwarf went. "

"And some type of greeting would have been asking too much?" She throws her hands up to the sky. "You know what? You're right, I shouldn't expect better from you."

I'm just about to snark back at her on instinct when Rachel runs up.

"You're here!" She walks past me to hug Quinn briefly, then steps back to look at her like a grandmother. "Wow, Quinn, you look so beautiful, absolutely gorgeous!"

They compliment each other back and forth and I laugh to myself – that's the kind of welcome Queen Fabray expects. I feel her laser stare hit me and cough out my last giggles. I promised Rachel I would be good and for some reason that means something to me.

We catch a cab to the loft Rachel and Kurt share and I'm amazed they can afford such a big place even in their neighborhood, which is less than welcoming. I'm positive Burt and Rachel's dads are kicking in quite a bit more than they planned for their little prima donnas. I guess that's how parents are – mine handed me an envelope of $20,000 after all.

Kurt gives us the grand tour which takes all of 3 minutes since it is a loft, but I have to admit to enjoying his enthusiasm after months without even one mention of Chantilly lace or fuchsia. Quinn and I drop our bags in Rachel's bedroom and settle on the couch.

I'm still not sure why we're here at the same time. Quinn went on and on about how she was basically too busy to take the short train ride down to New York at Thanksgiving.

When I called to ask Rachel if I could come, she was of course, surprised, but then she was so excited to have a guest that wasn't an ex or a parent that I had to pull the phone away from my ear.

Quinn clearly hadn't made plans to come at the time that I had asked. Rachel wouldn't have been so exuberant and she definitely would have warned me….wait, she must've warned Quinn…..why did she come anyway?

"So I thought we could go out tonight!" My eyes light up at Rachel's suggestion and I stand as though we should immediately begin getting ready.

Quinn gives me the side-eye before replying. "Whatever you have in mind is fine. I guess Santana can use the bathroom first."

I swallow my reaction to her giving me permission to use the bathroom first._ This chick!_

I walk to the bedroom that adjoins to the small bathroom and it's only when I glance back on a whim that I see Quinn talking to Rachel, but looking at me – the clearest evidence in the world that you're being talked about.

I don't care. She's probably bitching that I didn't bow and kiss her rings at the train station.

I turn up the heat in the shower until my skin is red and raw, but it feels good after my skeezy flight. I step out of the bathroom in a towel with wet hair hanging down and steam lifting off my shoulders to find Quinn perched on Rachel's bed.

"I didn't use all the hot water." I offer it in case a fight is about to start over nothing as I pad towards my bag.

"I'm sure you did, but that's not why I'm here." She sits calmly and it unnerves me that I can't continue getting ready without stripping naked in front of her. We did it a thousand times in Cheerios, but now that we've graduated, it seems different.

"Ok?" I grab my lotion and start working on my legs and arms.

"I wanted….I wanted to apologize for saying those things…back in the choir room. I heard that Kitty was really giving Marley laxatives and it was wrong of me to assume you brought it up because you were jealous."

I'm so shocked by the apology that my hands freeze on my calf. Did Quinn Lucy Fabray just apologize to _me_? The thought still lingers that it wouldn't have mattered if Kitty was guilty or not. We're best friends, why would she say those things to me over something completely unrelated?

I was willing to let all of this go before the apology, so with it, I feel like I can clear my conscience. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have mentioned Beth. You did the best thing you could for her, Quinn, and no matter what I said, I know that's true." She nods looking away. "I still think Professor Molester is disgusting."

Her eyes flash up. I can tell she's biting her tongue and some part of me draws satisfaction from seeing her struggle to maintain the peace like I had to earlier. I decide to soften the blow after getting my fill.

"You're way too smart and way too hot to be dating some old man, Q. Don't waste your youth."

I realize the moment I say it that I'm sure she's heard that message before, in regards to Beth. It also occurs to me that given her pregnancy, being disowned and her car accident, that maybe Quinn doesn't even have her youth anymore. Maybe it slipped away.

She may be thinking the same thing, since the room has fallen silent. I grab some clothes out of my bag and hold up a tight mini dress on my left and an even tighter one on my right.

"Let's forget everything and just have fun tonight, Q. Which dress?"

She glances back at me and it's like it was when we first met – when clothes and hair and yes, boys, were the most important things to us. Some things have changed, but not everything. She rolls her eyes at her options, before picking the slightly lengthier mini.

I laugh at her choice. "Afraid of a little competition, Fabray?"

She smirks. "No, you look good in red." It's a simple compliment, but for some reason it makes heat rise in my cheeks. I wring my hair out in the towel for something to do. And Quinn watches me.

"What are you going to do with your hair?" She seems to like this trip down memory lane too, but I'm running out of things to do without taking my towel off.

"I don't know, I thought maybe I'd wear it down with a center part."

"I like the side part better." I didn't know Quinn had a favorite look for me, but maybe she just wants to smooth things over as much as I do.

"Alright, maybe I'll do that." I dig in my bag for my blow dryer and straightening iron and pull them out and start to do my hair even though I normally get dressed first. I decide that maybe if I ignore her she'll do her own thing, but instead I feel her hands take the blow dryer and brush from me.

"It'll be faster if I get the back."

I let her start out doing it, but I quickly feel awkward.

"Quinn, you don't have to do this. It's okay." I grab at the brush again and she releases the blow dryer.

"I guess you do it yourself all the time….I'll get in the shower." She seems defeated and I feel bad that I shut down her attempt to get closer.

When she comes into the kitchen an hour later in a more form fitting dress than she usually wears I think of all the compliments Rachel gave her earlier, and how true they really are, but again, I say nothing. Kurt swings out of his room at the same time, looking overdressed for the club, but not unusually so for him.

He takes in the three of us. "You ladies are going to have to beat them off with a stick!"

Quinn fixes her gaze on me now. She takes in her dress pick and the side part with the hint of a smile. I find it a little irritating that I still want her approval. I avert my eyes in an attempt to end her evaluation, however positive.

"I figured we could get dinner at this little Thai place Kurt and I love downtown." Rachel adds as she grabs her coat.

Dinner goes by quickly, Kurt and Rachel heat the place with all their stories about NYADA and Vogue. I normally would roll my eyes, but I've missed this. Somehow I've missed this. I take a few quick jabs at each of them to keep things consistent, but there's clearly no malice. Quinn smiles at me every now and then, with something in her eyes that I can't place.

The club is amazing. I've never been someplace like this. The Louisville clubs are filled with football-crazed frat boys who can't keep their hands to themselves.

I haven't been to the lesbian bars. In Louisville no one knows I'm gay and I'd like to say I've been open about it, but it's so much easier to keep it to myself. Well, except for the fact that since my breakup with Brittany I haven't hooked up with anyone. I'm not used to so little physical attention. I see girls look too long, admire too much from time to time, but it's not enough for me to do something.

I look around the club and there's girls dancing with girls, guys dancing with guys and the usual majority of hetero couples. I've never been someplace where everyone was together and accepted. I work double-time to keep my eyes from widening in wonder. I can't have Rachel and Quinn thinking I'm not as cosmopolitan as them.

We find a spot near the dance floor and Brody walks up with drinks for all of us. I've decided I like this guy within 5 seconds because of it. He grabs Rachel quickly and heads to the dance floor.

Kurt turns to us, releasing his straw. "Aren't they gorgeous together? Clearly, I love Finn, but I've never seen Rachel this confident. Brody brings out something different in her."

"Her libido, I'm sure." Kurt slaps my shoulder for the insult to his brother, but can't keep from laughing.

"Speaking of libido. There's a crowd starting to form." Kurt gestures to the guys pretending to be uninterested at a 5 foot circumference around us. Quinn rolls her eyes and I think how stupid she is to save all that beauty for some cradle-robber in New Haven.

I give a quick appraisal to a few of the guys- Brody can't possibly afford to pay for us all night. I've seen the change these bartenders have been handing out and it isn't much. We'll need a few of these Romeos to make an investment.

"You're such a tease, Santana." Quinn hasn't kept all of her disdain from this comment, so I throw a little back her way.

"Isn't that what you taught me, Captain?"

"That was a long time ago. I've grown up."

The implicit slight to my maturity should make me slap her, but instead my lips curl into a smile. "Dating someone double your age doesn't make you grown." I say it as I beckon one of the men over with a devilish grin.

"My friends and I were hoping you might be interested in getting the next round."

"As long as you're interested in dancing to the next song, I'd love to."

Quinn grimaces at me when we return from the bar with drinks for everyone. I can see the relief on Brody's face and the worry on Rachel's as I follow the handsome gent who bought them out to the dance floor.

He's close to me as we dance to a few songs, too close, but I don't mind. Just because I don't want to sleep with him, doesn't mean I can't have fun and he has rhythm, which is more than I can say for 99% of the guys in Louisville. When I see Quinn raise a hand to the most recent suitor to enter her personal space, dark hazel fixed on me, I realize that this is bothering her far more than I would have expected. I lean in closer until I can feel his breath on my neck.

Not 10 seconds later, I feel a hand pull at my shoulder as Quinn squares up to the guy. "I'm so sorry. I just need to borrow this one for a second." It's pure Fabray charm, sweet and sugary, and I can see that he falls for it instantly – probably thinks she's about to plot my wedding to him in the bathroom.

I follow because it saves me the trouble of having to tell him I'm not interested. I'm also really curious about why this has Quinn so riled up.

The bathroom is overflowing with women. A few are cute, I note as we walk past. Quinn groans and drags me to a dark corner near the emergency exit and turns, clearly upset. Unless she thought this dude was cute, I'm at an impasse as to why.

"What are you doing?"

"The same could be asked of you."

"There are girls here that you could be dancing with. Why are you letting that slimy guy paw all over you?"

"Wow, _slimy_? Quinn, the guy is just trying to get laid and actually he's been a million times less pushy than the guys I normally deal with. Besides, girls are way too smart to buy a round for you _and your friends._" Her downturned eyebrows remain down and I roll my eyes to suggest I'm over it.

"Don't roll your eyes at me! You didn't do it to Kurt or Rachel."

My puzzlement is written all over my face. "What?! What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about everyone getting to experience the newer, nicer Santana except for me. And don't think I don't know what you're doing. I've reinvented myself more times than Madonna. I know what it looks like."

"Whatever, I tried to be nice to you and you threw it in my face. And it's funny you mention all of your reinventions because every single one has been a bitch to me. Why are you constantly up my ass?"

"I am not _up your ass__,_ as you so eloquently put it."

"Well then, what is this? You talk about me not smiling enough at you, but I don't see you yelling at Puck to go to college, or asking Finn why he's back in Lima, you even congratulated Mercedes on her part-time singing telegram job. I'm a cheerleader on the most prestigious squad in the country with a full-ride scholarship and you talk to me like I'm working a pole at a titty bar."

Quinn huffs at my purposeful vulgarity before shaking her head to emphasize her next point. "It's not what you want. Cheerleading isn't what you want, Louisville isn't what you want and that sleazeball buying drinks for us is definitely not what you want."

Even if parts…well, all of what she is saying is true. Who cares? I'm getting a free college degree. Most people dream of what I have right now. Why should I ask for more?

"You want to know what I really want, Q? Another drink because this shit is not what I meant when I said we should have fun tonight." I throw up my hands and walk away, past the throng of women who think they've just seen a lover's spat, no doubt.

As I'm walking back to the group through the crowd, I feel a hand sneak into mine and turn ready to slap somebody, anybody, only to find Quinn. Since she is the one I want to slap the most, I briefly consider it, but she has her palms out quickly, guessing my thoughts. She starts dancing before leaning forward to speak into my ear over the din. "You're right. We should have fun tonight."

I lean back to look in her face because I've just gotten 2 apologies in one day from Quinn and I'm starting to feel light headed. "Yeah….I am right."

We dance to a few songs before the uninterested guys from earlier seem willing to show just how interested they are now that we're on the dance floor. I look over my shoulder irritated as one tries to grind into me from behind only to feel someone step completely into my personal space in front of me.

Her scent hits me before my eyes catch the blond hair at my cheek and it is surreal to say the least when hands slide over my ass that can only belong to Quinn. I turn back to her stunned, but the guys are backing away fairly quickly. They don't exactly leave the area, but they seem to have some level of respect for Quinn's overt display of ownership.

She speaks into my ear again, but this time her warm breath makes me shiver. "You're mine!" She slaps my ass with one hand for effect and I laugh nervously at her joke.

I'm not going to lie. Quinn is the hottest girl I've ever seen. Brittany is pretty and sweet, but my love for her borders on motherly. It's part of the reason we needed to break up. Quinn, on the other hand, has always been this elusive object of desire.

We kissed once, back in high school when she wanted to learn how to kiss boys. I, of course, had covered that ground in middle school and so I generously offered to teach the whole squad at a slumber party. I still laugh to myself when I think about it. What an enterprising little lesbian I was. Anyway, I didn't think Quinn would fall for it. She was so much smarter than the rest of the girls, but she moved closer to me like the rest, licking her lips nervously.

She talks about it every now and then as though she had tried lesbianism on and didn't like it. It wasn't that serious, but I did see her face after we parted and it wasn't one of dislike however she tries to spin it these days. Brittany moved her sleeping bag next to mine that night and for a while I forgot about how hot Quinn was.

That is, until she slapped the shit out of me at Thanksgiving. I was oddly turned on by it. I've been slapped by Quinn before and those times were not at all sexy, believe me, but it was something about the way she was talking to me; the way she caressed the piano and leaned forward like I was her prey '_And what are you excited about? Shaking pom poms in Kentucky." _

I brushed it aside for two reasons. 1) Quinn is straight or mildly bisexual 2) It's Quinn.

Right now though, both of those seem unimportant as her hands linger longer than necessary on my ass. I try to ignore the feeling I'm getting. I remind myself that it's just been a long time, that's all.

"I think they get it." I reach back with one hand to tap her and she glides her hands up to my lower back, but we remain close. My heartbeat is racing and I'm positive she can feel it.

She arches away from me to look in my face and her laugh would be so beautiful if it weren't directed at me. "Am I making you nervous, Santana?" When I respond by looking away, she only laughs harder. "If I had known this was the way to shut you up, we'd be sleeping together by now."

I abruptly remove her arms from around me and storm towards Kurt, she grabs at me, but I slink away. "Wait, Santana, no wait, I'm sorry."

And 3. Kurt seems to have caught some of our interaction and is appropriately quiet, yet attentive. "I need a drink." I see him do quick damage control with a flick of his wrist. Rachel intervenes with Quinn who tried to follow me and Brody makes his way to the bar.

Kurt nudges me. "I saw you out there. Did Quinn take it too far?"

If anyone could understand me right now it was Kurt. "She laughed at me because I was nervous being so close to her."

The guy I used to tease mercilessly for being gay nods sagely. "I'd like to say I get it. I mean before he became my brother, I thought Finn could maybe be coached into gayness, but Finn was never gay and as much as I crushed on him back then, it wasn't remotely mutual."

He's staring across the room at where Rachel is listening to a manically hand-gesturing Quinn. I scrunch up my face in confusion and he tilts his head to the side, seemingly amused.

"You had me for a second there, Yoda, but I missed a turn."

"Quinn likes you."

"'Like' might be a strong word. Most of the time she seems to tolerate me. And on rare occasions like tonight, she enjoys torturing me."

"Santana, you dummy. I overheard her and Rachel in the kitchen this morning. She's trying to work up the nerve to tell you how she feels."

"How she feels? What are you talking about?"

"I guess she didn't realize it until you broke up with Brittany. Rachel told her she should just tell you, but she doesn't think it's a good idea. Why do you think she's here? We've been in New York for 6 months and Quinn hasn't come to visit, but the moment she hears you're coming, here she is." Brody approaches with the drinks and I grab mine, downing it in seconds.

I cough and Brody slaps my back, giving Kurt wide eyes about what he has stepped into.

Quinn likes me? Likes me likes me. Wait, what?

I don't feel comfortable continuing the conversation with Brody present so I'm stuck with my own thoughts. I would likely just be asking Kurt 'What?' repeatedly anyhow. I look at Quinn across the room as if to gauge if what Kurt said could be true by the flip of her hair or the outfit she chose, the way she is standing maybe but she just looks like Quinn.

"I need some fresh air." Kurt squints a little, like he was hoping I would respond differently, but says nothing as I walk away.

The cold air slices through me as I walk past the line waiting to get in to lean against an empty wall. The chill seems to sober me up a little, but I still have no idea what to think.

Do I like Quinn? I'm attracted to her, yes, but do I want to date her? Is that what this is? Does she want to date me? Wait, she has an old-ass boyfriend. Does she just want to have sex? What kind of person acts like a total bitch to the person they like? Don't answer that.

I'm stirred from my endless questioning by none other than the central topic. She has her coat on and offers me mine. I wonder how she got it without the ticket briefly before recalling that the coat check guy seemed totally into her.

I take it because I'm starting to lose feeling in my fingers, and quickly pull out the gloves. She takes advantage of my distraction.

"I'm sorry."

"You've been saying that a lot lately."

Ignoring me she glances left and right, seemingly looking for her words. "I don't know how to do this and clearly I'm terrible at it."

I'm sure Kurt has informed her about what he shared, but I'm still more convinced that she is going to tell me he had it wrong than anything else. That he misunderstood her conversation with Rachel. Part of me wishes she would, but alarmingly, more wishes she would say it's true. I stay quiet.

"After….after Thanksgiving, I took some time to think about the way I reacted to you in the choir room and how I felt after we, um, fought. I told my professor about it because I couldn't figure out why I brought those things up." I can't help but roll my eyes at her reference to her mentor, but I quickly return eye contact. I need to try to understand her. "… and he said that I was goading you. That I….that I bait you to fight with me because it's the closest I can get to you. He said it was in response to unresolved sexual tension."

So she wants to have sex with me.

"Then he looked up your picture on the Louisville website and said I should invite you for an exploration session, just the three of us, so that we could '_resolve the tension'_ together. I smacked him and left, but he wasn't wrong."

I'm blinking a lot. I don't know why, but this is a lot of information to process. Do I jump at the chance to argue with her for the same reason? Could I kill her professor and get away with it if I watch enough of those crime shows?

"I am attracted to you. I think it manifested itself in trying to get you to come here, to follow your dreams in New York. I wanted to make this weekend special so you would come back. I wanted to see if maybe you felt some of what I feel for you."

There's the slightest upturn at her last statement, making it sound more like a question. She's looking at me intently now, waiting to hear my reaction, but I still don't know what to say.

My silence extends too long and she takes in a deep breath before speaking again. This time with an unmistakable quiver of disappointment. "Okay, yeah, I thought it might go like this. I'm sorry." She wipes at a stray tear as fast as she can. "I'll take the next train back to New Haven tomorrow. I don't want to ruin your visit."

"No, no.."

"It's okay. You don't have to say anything."

I'm just about to tell her that I just needed more time to think when Kurt, Rachel and Brody walk up. If looks could kill, mine would have committed a triple murder.

"Sorry to interrupt. I know this is terrible timing, but we've got to go. Brody is the understudy in 'Wrath of the Night' and the lead has walking pneumonia, so he's performing the matinee tomorrow."

I take solace in the fact that she's saying this solemnly when I know she is ecstatic for Brody. He even looks sorrowful and it makes me like him even more.

"How wonderful, Brody, congratulations." Quinn as usual, composes herself quickly and gives Brody a hug of support.

We hail a cab and Rachel sits on Brody's lap in the front. When I climb in, Kurt follows to sit in the middle I'm sure at Quinn's urging. The cabbie is playing Top 40 and the New Yorkers join in to sing Diamonds. Kurt is leaning forward, belting out the lyrics in his soprano and I use the opportunity to look over at Quinn, who is staring out the window. I know she feels my stare, but she won't look at me and Kurt settles back as the song ends.


	2. Chapter 2

The distraction of music is lost when we arrive to the loft and Quinn makes it clear that she wants nothing to do with me as we walk in and shrug off our coats. The tension lays thick upon the room, everyone going through the motions of getting ready for bed quietly.

When I get out of the bathroom, Rachel is just finishing pulling the fitted sheet onto the pull-out bed. Quinn quickly walks towards the bathroom with all her things. Meanwhile Brody has found himself inexplicably interested in every book on the bookshelf across the room. I take the opportunity offered.

"Is she really here for me?"

Rachel looks up at me as she stuffs a pillow into its case. "She's not here for me."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Rachel looks at the doorway to assure herself that Quinn can't hear. "It wasn't my place." I scoff at her and she hits back, incredulous. "_You just stared at her, Santana?" _Apparently my time in the bathroom didn't go to waste either.

"I was surprised! She has borderline hated me for most of the last five years."

Rachel throws the pillow at me roughly before starting on the next.

"Well, whatever you felt, words would have been nice."

I sigh heavily. Shit. I find myself in the worst possible position – in need of Rachel Berry's advice. "Well, what do I do now?"

"Tell her how you feel."

"I don't know how I feel."

"Yes you do, it's just uncomfortable."

"I told you that I could sleep on your rug and Santana could take the couch." We both turn to Quinn, thankful that she only heard the last few words of our conversation.

The rug Quinn is referring to is 3x5 at best and I stare at her like she has lost her whole mind. When she catches my look, I immediately regret it.

"Or maybe Kurt wouldn't mind a bedmate." She starts walking towards his closed door and I chase after her.

"Stop." I'm guessing Kurt has strategically gone to bed quickly to avoid this exact scene. I catch her shoulder just before she gets to his closed door. "Stop, Quinn."

"She can speak!" I glance back to catch her audience scurrying into Rachel's bedroom.

"Alright, you guys are all set, see you both in the morning." Rachel shuts the door in record time and I return my gaze to Quinn.

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

"That would be a first." She won't look at me as she walks back to the bed and sits on the furthest corner from me.

I slowly approach. "Quinn, you have to admit this is sudden. I just needed time to process."

"We don't need to do this. I'll just go home in the morning and we can forget I said anything." She climbs under the sheets and faces away from me.

"We have to talk about this." She ignores me, while Rachel's words ring in my ears on repeat…..in Rachel's voice…I have to say something.

"I do feel…..things for you, Quinn."

"You feel 'things'." She's still facing away and the monotone of her voice lets me know that aside from getting a response, I haven't made much progress.

"I'm attracted to you too, you know that…" I'm not sure she knows that. "…but we're friends."

The silence is deafening and I'm starting to understand why she was so frustrated with me earlier.

Rachel was right. I know how I feel.

I feel like I'm about to jeopardize the only close friendship I have left on some perv's pop psychology hunch, however plausible. We can get over jealousies. We can get over fights. Can we get over a breakup if that's what it comes to? Something tells me Quinn isn't as forgiving as Brittany and I know I'm not.

I'm on the verge of saying her name when she finally responds. "Just go to sleep, Santana." She says it so wearily that I want to do as she asks.

I don't though. I climb under the sheets beside her and stare at her back. I stare for what seems like hours. I think about touching her, my hand even hovers a few times, but I don't dare.

I'm not sure when I fall asleep, but I awaken to the sound of a suitcase rolling over the floorboards. I open my eyes quickly and jump up knowing exactly what's happening. Unfortunately, in my haste, I get caught up in the sheets and fall to the floor with a loud thud.

"Graceful." Her voice is humorless.

I disentangle myself from the sheets and push myself up with effort. She's fully dressed with a patterned scarf that makes her look sophisticated beyond her years.

"Don't go. Don't leave." I sound like a child begging their mother not to head off to work in the morning. I probably look it too. My tank top is twisted haphazardly and my sleep shorts hang almost too low to be decent.

I register that everyone has been up for a while as I try to adjust my clothing. I can faintly hear the bustle of Brody and Rachel behind her closed door.

Quinn's nostrils flare like she finds my pleas annoying. "Did you think that I hadn't considered that?"

I'm wiping at my face, trying to wake up all the way. "Considered what? Staying?"

"That we're friends." She licks her lips, then bites them briefly in thought before continuing. "This wasn't a whim, Santana. I knew what I told you would change everything. I took a risk. I guess they don't always pay off."

Rachel and Brody both rush out of her door, grabbing at keys and wallets, coats and gloves. "Quinn, are you ready?"

I try to convey how much I want her to stay with my eyes, but she simply turns to Rachel with a nod.

"Santana, Kurt went to grab you both breakfast. He should be back any minute. We thought you might want to see the show today, so Brody had them set aside tickets at Will Call. Kurt knows ….." She's rambling but I can't hear her. All I can do is watch Quinn. My heart is clenching and every breath I take feels heavier than the last.

I'm startled by the door opening. Rachel and Brody exit first, and Quinn follows with her bag.

"Quinn….I don't want you to leave."

She looks back at me from the doorway, runs her eyes up and down my face, and then she's gone and the door closes soundly.

I'm lying on the couch staring at the ceiling by the time Kurt comes back in with coffee and what looks to be a bag of pastries.

"So she really left?"

I just look at him. "And I take that to mean you didn't want her to." He places everything on the counter. "You two don't make any sense."

"I asked her to stay." I rise as the smell of the coffee becomes too enticing to ignore and help him empty out the bag of sweeteners and creamer.

"What. And look at you all weekend? Of course she went home. Maybe you've forgotten how it feels to be rejected, Santana." I'm angry immediately.

"I didn't reject her!"

"You gave her the, 'I just want to be friends' speech. It's like the king of rejections."

"You don't know what…." I stop, realizing he knows exactly what it's like to date a friend and have it go wrong. "I can't lose another friend."

We settle into sofa chairs across from each other with our cups.

"Why are you so sure it won't work?"

I rattle off the reasons, lifting fingers for each point. "Quinn has never been with a girl. I'm near positive that she hates most things about me. And I live in Louisville."

Kurt sighs and then begins lifting his fingers to counter each thing I said. "Neither had you before Brittany. We both know that she loves most things about you, despite years of abuse. And you're not fooling anyone with this trip. She knows you're seriously considering moving here."

I knew that visiting would show my hand as it were, but I had no idea how quickly they would gather my true intentions.

I search his eyes, concerned that I might see some sliver of doubt that I could make it in New York like he and Rachel have, but he just seems supportive. It doesn't negate my concerns about Quinn though and with all my excuses lay to waste, the raw nerve of why I couldn't give her a chance is revealed.

"She's better than me."

In all of my projections about a future between Quinn and me, I'm somehow the one who gets dumped, and it always makes sense: I work too much. I look at other women. I yell at her friends. I'm bound to make a mistake with Quinn.

Kurt is taken aback. It's not the type of thing anyone would expect me to say, ever. He takes a long sip of his coffee and leans back.

"We should get ready for the show soon." I'm not sure how to take his avoidance of what I said, but part of me is glad the conversation is over and we flip on the tv to fill the quiet.

We're leaving dinner after Brody's performance when Rachel takes a call.

"…why didn't you call?" My ears perk up even more than they already had. "You should have told me immediately. We could have gotten another ticket, Quinn. We'll be home in 20. Do me a favor and grab a pastry from the bakery down the street until we're close. You'll look like a target with that suitcase on the street."

Rachel has learned quick! And Quinn is still here. I try to be casual with my interest, but I'm sure no one is fooled.

"What happened?"

"Bad weather in New Haven. First they just delayed it, but the storm hasn't let up so it's been cancelled altogether." Rachel looks at me and then away purposefully. "She's been there all day."

I feel guilt settle firmly in my chest. She would rather sit in a train station all day than be around me.

Thanks to a few well timed texts, Quinn walks up as we exit the cab and Rachel gives her a hug…because that's what Rachel does. I take a step to do the same, but Quinn's subtle shift towards the door makes it clear that she doesn't expect any further welcome, nor does she want any.

We settle into the living room. Kurt offers to make some cocktails and busies himself in the kitchen with Quinn's help. I try to fully invest myself in a conversation with Brody and Rachel about his performance, but I glance to the kitchen frequently and Rachel follows my interest.

It isn't long before Kurt arrives with a tray of drinks, and not like a lunch tray, a gilded tray with a mirror for a base. Beyond my amusement, I feel lucky to have him for a friend suddenly.

I take my glass as Quinn finds a seat across the way. Once we're all settled, Rachel raises her glass. "To Brody's star performance and Quinn's return! Cheers!" We all raise our glasses.

"Wait, wait! You can't drink until we've all made eye contact, otherwise we'll be cursed!" It's a light hearted superstition that Brody shares, but we all feel the need to comply. My eyes meet Quinn's last and I try to hold her gaze but she turns away just as soon as we connect.

"So, what do you think of New York, Santana? Are you convinced yet?" This time Brody's faux pas doesn't go unnoticed as Rachel squeezes his hand so tight that he frowns at her in pain.

I don't feel like there's any sense in lying at this point. Clearly, everyone has figured it out. I laugh to ease the tension and then do my best to be nonchalant. "Yeah, I guess. What's the worst that could happen?"

I could be a complete and utter failure in the same city that Rachel is flourishing. I could go broke and need to ask them to sleep on their couch. I could be one of those people who flips signs about $5 pizza on the corner.

Brody is relieved that his question didn't yield the storm that everyone thought was brewing.

Kurt and Rachel take the opportunity to plan out my move to whichever borough they think fits my personality and budget best. They go back and forth as though I were their child, and at times I intervene to shut down an idea, but mostly I let them have their fun. It keeps everyone from the elephant in the room, which looks distinctly like a beautiful blonde who wishes she were anywhere but here.

Finally it's time for bed and we go about our preparations in much the same way as the night before. I'm surprised Quinn doesn't ask Kurt to stay in his room, or maybe she does and he declines, but soon it's just me and Quinn on the tiny pull-out bed once more. She turns off the table lamp beside us and settles in with her back towards me.

I whisper because it seems appropriate. "Quinn"

I hear her sigh. "What?" Apparently she doesn't think we need to whisper so I speak normally.

"I'm sorry you had to spend the day at the train station, but I'm glad you're back."

"Thanks, I guess." She moves the covers up around her neck. "Nite."

"Wait, I thought we could talk."

"I think we covered everything, Santana."

"You didn't say what you thought about me moving here."

"I didn't want you to think I was up your ass." I asked for that one. I pause to let it dissipate.

"What do you think? I'm asking."

"You know what I think. I'm glad you're facing your fears. You need a change."

"Are you happy I'll be closer?"

She rolls over slowly and there's just enough light that we can see each other's faces dimly.

"You know the answer to that question too. What are you getting at Santana?"

"I'm afraid of a lot more than you know."

She just looks at me, silently encouraging me to go on. I don't know if I could share this in the light of day, but in the darkness, it's less intimidating.

"When we were freshman, I overheard some of the seniors talking about you in the locker room one day. They thought we had all cleared out, but back then I used to run an extra mile after every practice as fast as I could to impress Sylvester." I laugh at the memory. "Anyway, they were saying you were definitely going to be the next captain, that you were everything Coach could want and they really only had one concern, 'that Mexican girl' you were always hanging out with."

"Santana…" Quinn's voice is full of comfort.

"No, let me finish." She stops, but I can see how much it's bothering her. "They really tore into me - the boys I dated, the clothes I wore, even my grades, which I didn't think were a Cheerio priority. From then on, I was determined to beat you at everything, EVERYTHING. It didn't matter that we were friends. I had something to prove. A few times, I really thought I had you."

My smirk fades. "Maybe I did, but it never lasted. And now you're at Yale and I'm what? A college drop-out on my way to _chase my dreams_ in New York." I pause, taking a deep breath. "Those girls were right. You're better than me and you always have been. We don't belong together."

I find I can't bring myself to meet her eyes so it's almost a surprise when she finally speaks.

"That's the stupidest shit I've heard come out of your mouth in a long time."

My eyebrows turn down in confusion, but she continues trampling over my deepest fear about us. "You're telling me that you won't give me a chance to…." She's completely exasperated. "…to _love you_, Santana. I want to love you and you won't give me a chance because some stupid bitches in high school said you weren't _good enough_?"

This isn't what I expected. Since when does Quinn cuss and did she just say 'love'?

"Yes, I said 'love'." My eyes widen at her psychic abilities. "Don't you get it? I didn't come here for a crush, Santana. I know you think I'm crazy, but what else could this be? Do you know what it felt like to tell you that I felt something for you and for you to look at me like you had no idea what I was talking about? Like I was in this alone? My heart fell out of my body."

"You're just confused. That professor has filled your head with all these ideas about us, Quinn. You can't possibly want to date me…I mean, you're not even gay."

Clearly, I poked the dragon. "And _you_ decide who is gay and who is not?! I didn't know I needed your stamp of approval, S. Why are we even talking about this? You're just saying the same thing you said last night, only with more words and I can't take anymore."

"I don't want to lose you because of this...this idea. We're friends and I want us to always be friends. Sex makes everything more complicated."

"And I'm not worth it."

"I didn't say that!"

"But it's what you mean. Brittany was worth it, but I'm not."

She turns over abruptly and pulls the sheets impossibly closer. On instinct, I grab her right shoulder and push her flat to the mattress. I lean over her, quickly pressing my palms into the bed on either side of her neck, before shifting my lower body intrusively between her legs. She pushes at my shoulders as if to uproot me, but it's a weak attempt at best. "Get off!"

I kiss her roughly, our chests meeting as I relax my biceps. She pushes at my shoulders feebly and initially groans in protest, but it soon transforms into a moan of approval as the kiss deepens.

I can't entirely pinpoint what my purpose was in kissing her, but I think I had hoped that it would feel so wrong that within seconds, both she and I would know that we couldn't pursue a relationship.

Unfortunately, it has been minutes and the only thing it is proving is that we're a fit. Quinn is so soft, so receptive, that my whole body heats up with want. I grind into her once. Twice. Three times and finally she pushes me hard enough to separate us.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't know." It's as honest as I can be. I'm just doing.

"We can't do this." She takes a few more recuperative breaths. "You said you don't want me."

"Does it feel like I don't want you?"

Quinn looks at me and a chill settles between us. "Get off. I'm not a toy." She's not talking to me anymore. "I won't do this again. I promised myself."

I realize what I've done and 'ashamed' is not the word for what I'm feeling. It's layered in so much more filth than that. I move to her side apologetically.

"Quinn, I – "

"Don't apologize. I don't want to hear it."

She turns away and I'm left to stare at her back once more, but this time it feels so much worse. Just as I've convinced her that I'm not worth it, she's convinced me that she was right all along.


	3. Chapter 3

The rails were clear in the morning and Quinn took the first train back to New Haven.

I was wide awake when she got up to get dressed. Unlike the day before, she wouldn't lay her eyes on me and in response, I couldn't say a word.

It's been two months now and I finally moved to New York. All that talk of borroughs and efficiencies went out the window the moment I withdrew from Louisville. Rachel and Kurt seemed excited to split the rent one more time and I silently appreciated their friendship as I tried to strike out on my own.

Quinn and I haven't spoken since. I wrote and deleted texts to her for weeks. All of them seemed too trite in response to the hurt I had caused. I did call her. Repeatedly. I never left a message. It seemed wrong to follow up her voice, so light and sweet asking whoever called to leave a name and number with my toneless pleading.

I stopped trying about a week ago, deciding that if this is what Quinn needed, then the best thing I could do would be to leave her alone.

It didn't make me think of her less, even with all the girls that New York threw at me. I had picked up a few jobs bartending and dancing at some of the rowdier hotspots, which afforded me more admirers than I thought possible, and I think pretty highly of myself.

I couldn't shake Quinn though. She said _love_.

A part of me still thinks she was just emotional, overwrought by the day and my perceived rejection, but her eyes shone with a sincerity that it's hard to pretend I didn't see it. And what have these months been for me, aside from wishing I had done or said something different? What could I blame this infatuation on?

It surprises me immensely when Rachel announces at our weekly roomate meeting, that I'm forced to participate in, that Quinn will be visiting next weekend. I know that the two still talk regularly, so perhaps I shouldn't be so taken aback, but I am. Rachel doesn't miss it either and Kurt is watching me closely as well. I take in his uncreased forehead and realize the announcement is meant for me alone.

"Oh." It's all I've got.

Rachel continues, "I know things didn't end well with you two last time, but Quinn thinks you have both moved passed it."

"She does." Again, I'm doing the best I can.

"Yes, and to be frank, she doesn't see you two hanging out or anything, so I just wanted you to know since she'll be sleeping on the couch and all." Rachel fidgets nervously with the hem of her dress.

Kurt is just watching me as I take it all in. Quinn is coming. She's over me and she doesn't want to see me.

"Yeah, yeah...um, I have a shift on Friday so I'll be out of your way..." I'm off on Saturday for once because some tragic couple wants to hold their wedding reception in the bar where they first met.

Kurt is trying to help. "This is your home, Santana. Don't feel like you can't be here."

"No, no. I get it. Quinn is...she's your friend. Of course she wants to visit." It's hard for me to say 'your' instead of 'our'.

"It's settled then." Rachel pounds her gavel, which is actually just a meat tenderizer that she brings out for these ridiculous meetings. I normally find it charming, but today it feels like she's hammering the nail in my coffin. A weekend with Quinn.

QSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQS

I normally stare at the clock wishing the hands would spin just a little faster, but tonight I would give anything to turn them back. To slow, maybe even stop the world from spinning so much faster than I can think.

Quinn is at the loft. She got to New York a few hours ago and she's probably settled in, laughing about some story Kurt is telling or the way Rachel dramatizes her break up with Brody, a cocktail from the gilded tray in hand.

I'd give anything to stay here with the stale smell of alcohol and sweat, but I have to go home. I take my time counting up the register until my manager snipes at me for going too slow.

When I slide open the door, it's as if I created the evening with my mind's eye. The three of them, joined by Adam, Kurt's on again/off again fling, sit around the coffee table with drinks laughing at some recent punchline.

I don't want to look at her. I'm sure I'll be up all night with the image if I do. I focus on taking off my jacket and throwing it on the hook, but Adam, apparently unprepared for the tension welcomes me in his normal Downton Abbey fashion.

"For shame, her ladyship has arrived and not a one of you has risen to take her cloak."

I hear him break the scene as Kurt obviously nudges him to stop. "What?! She loves to hate it. Oh. Ohhh."

An awkward silence takes over the room as I dig in my coat pocket for something that doesn't exist.

Kurt tries to recover the fumble. "Tough night, Santana? You look beat."

I finally turn around after shoving my imaginary chapstick, I've decided, into my jeans. "The usual. Don't let me interrupt. I'm just heading to bed."

I try to focus on Kurt alone. I don't want to look at them all. I don't want them to see how left out I feel. Thankfully, Quinn is blocked by Kurt's turned body.

"I'm sure you can manage one more drink for an old friend." I can't see her, but her tone is unmistakable. She's angry, but if you didn't know her, you'd think she was being sweet, the same as that man did in the club all those months ago.

Rachel and Kurt both look concerned. They didn't anticipate this turn of events either.

"I'm really tired. But you guys have fun." I start to walk past the group towards my corner of the loft.

"Here I come all this way and you won't even have one drink with me." I pause at the entrance to my room. She's clearly had a few tonight and if Adam didn't get that the first request wasn't polite, he does now. The room is heavy with tension. Maybe I owe her this.

"I suppose you're right." I turn around and move to sit across from her beside Rachel. When our eyes meet she holds my gaze. And what I heard I can now see - that dangerous glint in her eye.

"Kurt, I don't know what you're talking about. Santana looks anything but beat, she's as beautiful as ever."

Kurt tries to ease the situation as best he can, rising to step closer to me. "The signature drink of the evening is the Rusty Nail. It's meant to be sipped, but Quinn has taken a recent liking to Scotch apparently. Would you like one?"

I'm not a big fan of brown liquor, but if it means I can get the hell out of this room, I'll drink anything. I knew we would have to address our problems at some point, but I really thought it would culminate on Sunday with perhaps a tenth of the anger I'm receiving right now.

"Sure, that sounds good."

Adam too, tries to chip in. "Quinn was just telling us about how crazy the 'crossing over' ceremony was for her secret society. Did you know that Jodie Foster is a member?"

I glance up to the both of them. "She mentioned that, yeah."

"Anyway, first they have to wear these robes -"

"Santana isn't interested in any of that. Besides we've talked enough about me. What's been going on with you, S? I'm sure you have much better stories to tell."

It occurs to me that this may have always been the plan for Quinn.

"I've just been working."

"At the club, right. Rachel says you dance there. Like for tips?" She's trying to be rude and it's as unbecoming as you might expect. I've taken it for about as long as I can.

"And numbers." Rachel looks at me admonshingly. I knew it was wrong of me, but I couldn't help it.

"See, I knew you had some stories. Tell me their names. Are they strippers too?"

Adam gets up abruptly. "I'm just going to go help Kurt."

Rachel looks like she's been pushed into the colloseum.

"I'm not a stripper." I'm gritting my teeth and if my drink doesn't come out soon I'm going to start on any of the half filled ones I see on the table. Quinn's is empty.

"Well you dance for money in little more than lingerie, so I'm not sure what else to call it."

"You know what, I think we should play a game. Who likes charades?!" Rachel is on her feet as though the movement will create excitement.

I lean back into my seat and bite the inside of my cheek to keep from speaking.

Quinn leans forward to eliminate the distance I tried to create. "What are their names?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." I'm really trying here.

"All the numbers mixed in with the dollar bills. I'm sure you've got at least one Veronica."

"Kurt! Are you distilling the Scotch?! We want to play charades."

"Two actually." And I'm not lying. I should be though as Quinn zeroes in on me like she could throttle me from across the table.

"Could you imagine if you had moved here instead of Louisville in the first place? Brittany wouldn't have stood a chance. I'm positive an 'energy exchange' wouldn't describe it."

Kurt sashays into the room with water bottles and a solitary Rusty Nail for me. "I love charades!"

I'm cursing Brittany for being so honest about everything with everyone.

"You know what, thanks for the drink, Kurt, but I think I'm done." I stand to leave the room once more as Quinn reaches around the water bottles to pick up my glass from the tray mumbling to herself loudly.

"If you can't take the heat!"

It's the last straw.

"I called you for months and you wouldn't even answer. Don't put this all on me."

Quinn laughs sardonically to herself. "If the shoe fits."

"What is this?! You came here to sling insults and overused cliches at me to make yourself feel better?"

"I came here to see what finally made you stop calling and it sounds like their names are Veronica. Although you've been too humble to share the whole list. C'mon, Santana! Maybe there's a Melissa or a Cindy? What about Rachel?"

Rachel finally stops pretending that a serious fight isn't happening in front of her. "That's enough, Quinn."

I've never wished I had a door to slam more. As I pull my curtain shut, I hear Quinn making a weak apology for taking such a low blow and Rachel insisting that everyone call it a night.

I put my headphones in to try to take my mind off the adrenaline pulsing through my veins. What the hell was wrong with her? I turn off my bedside lamp and stare at the ceiling until I can feel my heart rate calm. I sigh heavily and finally close my eyes.

By the time I wake up the next morning the apartment is empty. Quinn's blanket and pillow are neatly stacked on one cushion and Rachel has thoughtfully written a note on the white board stating that they went out to brunch.

I make myself some coffee and toast and mindlessly consume it while watching a rerun of the Fashion Police. Eventually, Joan Rivers nasally complaints can't keep my mind from returning to everything Quinn said last night.

I had planned to make myself scarce this weekend. Spend the day at the museum or one of those terrible little coffee shops where everyone pretentiously taps on their laptops, but now I feel like I need to clear the air with her. She can't just get on her train tomorrow and go back to ignoring me after everything she said.

I shower and get dressed for the day before settling back on the couch to flip through the latest Elle.

I hear their voices before the door slides open and Quinn looks as sheepish as I had the night before.

"Kurt, show me that outfit you want to wear tonight." Rachel and Kurt walk off to his bedroom, leaving Quinn to slowly make her way to the chair across from me. I keep looking at my magazine, unwilling to give her my attention without a request.

"Santana, about last night... I apologize for the things I said."

I suck my teeth as I toss the magazine aside.

"You know, I'd almost believe you if I didn't think you came here expressly to say them."

"I came here to see my friends. Look, I had too much to drink, I know that. You-"

"You called me a stripper. You said I would've cheated on Brittany. You accused me of sleeping with all of New York including Rachel. That's not too much to drink, Quinn. That's vindictive."

She's quiet as I vent my frustrations.

"I know I made a mistake that night, but I never expected you to act like this." Her eyes flit to meet mine at the mention of our last visit together.

"How did you expect me to act?" Her voice is flat. I'm not sure what she's after.

"I don't know. I've called you a thousand times and you never answer. I don't know."

"So you gave up?" Again, the question is asked as if by a stranger.

"I thought that's what you wanted. Usually when someone doesn't answer your calls it's because they'd like you to stop calling."

"So you made a mistake that night and you're sorry."

I'm not sure I understand the statement. Or is it a question? Does she want me to apologize?

"Yes, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you like that. It wasn't right."

"I'll accept your apology if you accept mine."

This is weird. Who trades forgiveness?

"Okay. I accept your apology."

"Good. We're going to some show Rachel is dying to see tonight if you want to come. I'm sure we'll go out after."

I shouldn't go. I should tap on my laptop on some disgusting sofa in Park Slope, but even after everything she said to me yesterday, I still want to be near her and this offer is more than I expected from her this weekend.

"Maybe."


End file.
